The Curse of the Cul-de-sac
by Trella Marie
Summary: Natalie just moved into a new house on a cul-de-sac. But everyone is acting weird. And what's this about kids dying! Based on the Ed,Edd,'nEddy cartoon theory floating around the internet (link provided). Pretty much all OC's, but with references to characters from the show. Enjoy! R&R please!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So I've been reading up on cartoon theories lately, and for some reason the Ed, Edd, & Eddy one just really sticks in my mind. Then, this idea came to me. I hope you like it! Oh, and here's a link to the theory. I suggest reading it first! **

** s/7842255/1/Ed-Edd-Eddy-theory**

**Did you read it? Good! Now, I hope you enjoy this story! R&R**

_"Do you have the time, to listen to me whine? About nothing and everything all at once"_, the music began, blasting into my ears. I watched the moving men carry our furniture out of the truck, as I lay stretched across the couch that used to reside in my bedroom. _Why did we have to move? I was perfectly happy back home._ I turned my head and looked out into the cul-de-sac. _Eddy Street. What kind of name is that?_ I turned my music up louder and began to listen to the music blaring through my eardrums. Though, of course, I was interrupted by the sound of my dad calling my name.

"Natalie! Natalie, where are you?" he shouted. I sighed, pulling my earbuds out and stopping my music. I shoved my iPod into the pocket of my zip-up hoodie, and walked out of the truck. I jumped down, my neon pink high-top Converse smacking loudly against the black pavement. I turned to my parents, who were standing with another couple I had never seen before. They were pale, with platinum blonde hair, and dressed very preppy, sweater tied around the shoulders and all. Confused looks were painted on their wrinkling faces, which quickly changed to looks of fear when they saw me.

"Suzanne, James, this is our daughter, Natalie," my mother stated, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. I gave them an unenthusiastic smile, which they returned with forced, fear-filled ones.

"You, um, didn't mention you had children," the woman my mother referred to as Suzanne said shakily.

"Child. We only have Natalie," my mother corrected her. The woman appeared as if her heart sunk a little hearing that. She hummed a small noise to signify that she heard my mother, and then an awkward silence came across the five of us. I bit my lips, licking off a little of my lip-gloss. The taste always reminded me of being a little kid, and getting jawbreakers at the candy shop. Then I look down at myself, I see my distressed denim short-shorts, my black Green Day hoodie, my neon pink tank top, my black crackle nail polish painted over the neon pink. My dark brown hair is straightened thin, with black streaks appearing here and there. I wasn't a little kid any more. I knew full well that my parents hated me dressing like that, but I didn't care. Finally my father broke the awkward silence, and commenced some bauble chit-chat with the new neighbors. I stood there, silent and still like a plank.

After a few minutes that seemed like hours passed, Suzanne and James made up some lame excuse as to why they had to leave, and walked over to their home next-door. My parents went back inside our new house, leaving me out on the driveway. I swiftly walked into the green lawn to the "For Sale" sign, pulled it out of the ground and threw it to the side before dropping down onto the lawn. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my iPod, and began to untangle the headphones when I heard something.

"Hey, little girl!" a voice shouted. My head shot up to see a boy, probably about fifteen years of age, stopped on a bike about six feet away from me. I scrunched up my face and glared at him.

"I am not a little girl! I'm thirteen-years-old!" I hissed. The boy scoffed.

"Yeah, yeah. You live here?"

"Yeah. I just moved in, why?" I asked, brushing my hair out of my face. A sinister grin came across the boy's face as he let out a small laugh that gave me chills.

"Did you know that a kid died in this house?" he stated. My jaw dropped a little, my brown eyes widening. He nodded towards the house, and I whipped my head towards where he had directed, my hair swooshing through the air. "You see that room where their hanging up the curtains?" he said. I looked and saw my black curtains with jolly rogers all over them being hung up in the windows to the far left of the second story. "That's the room where the kid died." My entire body began to tremble as I looked at the window in fear. I quickly turned my head away, and looked back to the boy. He laughed sadistically before riding away from me. I pulled my legs up to my chest and buried my face in my knees. There was no way I was sleeping tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here it is! Chapter two! It kinda sucks, so sorry! **

**Note, I don not own Ed, Edd, & Eddy (obviously). Also, I apologize for all the lame little show references scattered about. Hey, I got to add the show in some how! Anyways, R&R!**

"Mom! Dad!" I shouted running into the house. My nails were digging deep into my elbows. I could feel my entire body shaking as I stumbled around the house in a desperate attempt to find my parents. I turned into the dining room and found my mother setting her china into the cabinets. "Mom!"

"Natalie? Sweetie, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost!" my mother said kindly, looking at me with blue eyes identical to mine. She put her hands on my arms kindly.

"Mom, did you know a kid died in this house?" I exclaimed, still shaking.

"What? Where did you hear that?" she asked.

"Some guy out on the street. He said a kid died in this house; in _my_ room even!" I explained. My mother sighed, her shoulders dropping disappointedly.

"Natalie, not again," she whined, rolling her eyes. A look of confusion broke through my terrified visage. "Sweetie, you've always been a very… well, gullible child."

"I'm not a child!" I exclaimed, my fear and confusion being replaced by anger.

"Natalie, you just came in here scared by something some kid on the street said," my mother replied doubtfully, walking back over to the china cabinet.

"It could be true! We don't know that he's lying!" I stated. My mother rolled her eyes. I let out a loud groan before stomping off. I knew exactly where I needed to go though. I ran down into the basement, where my dad was going through the miscellaneous boxes whose contents needed a place to go. I quickly put the terrified look back on my face and scurried up to my father.

"Dad, some guy on the street said that a kid died in this house!" I exclaimed. My father looked at doubtfully.

"Now honey, we've talked about this. Sometimes you can be a bit…" I shot him my saddest, most desperate look. He sighed. "I'll call the realtor, I'm sure it's not true." I exhaled deeply, realizing that was the best I would get. I walked solemnly upstairs to the second story, and down the hall. The door was wide open, and inside was all of the furniture that was previously in my bedroom at my old house. My dark-wood wardrobe and vanity, my full-sized bed with the fluffy black comforter and neon pillows. It seemed safe and innocent, so I stepped inside.

I was immediately overcome with a chilling sensation. My fair skin became paler than new-fallen snow. The feeling of needles brushing my skin phased my whole body. _Something_ had definitely happened in the room.

Days had passed, and I was still scared to enter my own bedroom. My father called the realtor, and he swore up and down that no death had ever occurred in the house. Yet I still became overcome with fear every time I entered the room. I barely slept at night, only able to get some comfort by burying my face in my T-Rex Squishable.

Now it was time for my first day of school. My mom dropped me off at the school, Peach Creek High School. _You know you're in a small town when they need to combine the middle school and high school, but still have a tiny building_, I thought. Considering the small size of the school, I had thought it'd be crowded, but instead found the hallway to be near empty. I found my locker in the eighth grade hallway, and looked around to find maybe twenty other kids in the hallway. I peered around the corner to the ninth grade hallway, and found it to be the same. As I finished organizing my locker, my eyes wandered around observing my new classmates. They were all dressed very plainly, many jeans, sweats, tennis shoes, t-shirts, et cetera. I suddenly felt like an outcast in my neon green skinny jeans, black, plunging v-neck shirt, and Osiris shoes. My eyes switched back to the ninth grade hallway, and found the others to be dressed the same as my classmates. However, one person did catch my eye. I recognized him as the guy who had stopped to tell me about the kid that had supposedly died in my bedroom. I looked at him intensely, just then actually looking at what he looked like. He had slightly shaggy black hair, and fair skin. He was tall, probably six feet, and rather thin, with small muscles making him slightly larger, and dressed in a pair of dark denim jeans, and some band t-shirt for a punk band. The last thing I noticed about him was his eyes. They were a bright, neon green. I stared at him, mindlessly arranging my books. No matter what, I couldn't take my eyes off of him. Suddenly, he glanced in my direction. Our eyes met, and I couldn't breathe. The mischievous grin he had given me a few days before reappeared on his face. He slammed his locker door shut and began to walk over to me, our eyes never separating the whole time. As he came closer, I trembled a bit, and found myself unable to breathe. I knew my cheeks were blushing bright red. He stopped only a couple inches away from me, looking down into my eyes.

"Hey kid. How did you sleep last night?" he said jokingly. My teeth clenched.

"I'm not a kid!" I hissed. "And that joke of yours wasn't funny!"

The look he gave me was almost puzzled, but that intimidating tone was still very strongly present.

"What joke?" he replied simply. I scoffed.

"Seriously? You only spoke to me once!"

"I know. I remember it perfectly. And I made no joke."

"That thing you said about the kid who died in my house, I know it wasn't true!"

He rolled his eyes and smiled.

"_Sure_ it was."

"It isn't."

"Except it is true. And you're next."

I froze, my jaw dropping a bit. I didn't want to show it, but knew full well that my eyes displayed my fear. He smiled a little, and shrugged. He turned a little as if to walk away, before stopping and turning back.

"If it'll help with a dying girl's fantasies, my name's Jakob," was all he said before leaving me alone and terrified once again. It was as if he was _trying_ to ruin my life. Yet the only thing that my mind kept thinking was how someone with such amazing eyes could be so cruel. And why couldn't I stop thinking about him?!


End file.
